Send "Regina Spektor " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Popmatters |
 Regina Spektor is one of those once-in-a-generation artists that seems to demand some sort of audience relationship to fully understand. Her lyricism is full of Garden State-esque quirks of specificity that feel non sequitur-like in their delivery, both full of and devoid of purpose. Over her career, she’s found her niche as the leader of the Lily Allen, Kate Nash-type female singer-songwriters that spend little time worrying whether the males are paying attention. In fact, most guys I know are only tangentially aware of her presence in the pop landscape, and the ones that are have generally come across her thanks to some girl at a liberal arts school that considers Spektor’s word gospel. Or perhaps I’m merely projecting my own experience onto everyone else.The story with Spektor’s studio recordings has been one of a slow decline by the fans’ estimations, as her music has slowly receded from the quirky high water mark of Soviet Kitsch into more standardly aloof piano pop affairs. Many close fans claimed 2009’s Far seemed like a bit of a crux point, with some bemoaning they had lost ‘their’ Regina Spektor, perhaps for good. Despite all this pouting, Live in London draws mostly from her last two albums with a few dips into the bigger live hits of her old catalog. And perhaps because I’ve developed no real attachment to Spektor as a person, and regard her more simply as my best friend’s absolute favorite artist whom I’ve been forced to listen to again and again, this feels like the smart way to go. Even a cursory listen to her studio work reveals Spektor to be a grandly theatrical performer, and one would assume it is hard to perform the same play year after year without adding new flavors to it. Live in London has a great pace to it, as Spektor starts out with some ballads before launching into some really interesting genre experiments. Anyone who’s spent a little time scouring true sailor songs will note the faithfulness with which she approaches the humorous folk subgenre with “Sailor Song”, while “Après moi” is a fascinating multi-lingual performance. “Dance Anthem of the ‘80s” nods more strongly at her pop stylings than most of the songs here, while “Bobbing for Apples” explores the curious nature of celebrity in typical Spektor quirk (“Someone’s next door fucking to one of my songs”). A lot of the songs here, although I fail to parse exactly why Spektor wrote them, are great at weaving their way into your skull, and she pulls them out at the right times always. “Eet” early, “Blue Lips” not much later, “The Calculation” in the middle, and “Samson” to bring things home. And she makes certain not to make any of these songs feel flatter than their studio counterparts thanks to some lively string arrangements and a great recording quality. There are even times, like the fantastically stillborn “Laughing With” from Far, where she brings a song out of the doldrums in surprising fashion. In fact, that track may be my personal favorite on the disc....full text |
| Bbc |
| Having been at the very gig here carved into posterity, it’s the between-song applause – rapturous, overwhelming and drenched with genuine affection for this charmingly gangly Moscow-via-NYC kookstrel – that jars. Because the abiding memory of this Regina Spektor gig is 90 minutes of tense but reverent hush as the Hammersmith Apollo holds its heart in its hands and whispers breathlessly along for fear of drowning out a single hammered piano chord, sweep of strings or percussive mike-kiss. Those deafening cheers are half appreciation, half relief at not having missed an iota of Spektor’s swirling romantic reveries or tragic-comic character tales. A CD/DVD package, the audio here offers proof of Regina’s rise through the quirkstress ranks, outstripping Tori Amos and brushing at the underside of Kate Bush. That she can ram an hour and a half with faultless piano balladry full of wit, charm and inventive imagery – while not even touching such classics as Summer in the City, Better or Poor Little Rich Boy – is testament to one of the broadest and best canons in 21st century singer-songwriting. When she’s not artfully deploying Biblical relationship metaphors on Samson, she’s teasing emotive depths out of a story about finding a stranger’s wallet in Wallet, likening a love affair to an eroding statue in the euphoric Us or taking a rare trip to her guitar stand to play Bobbing for Apples, a playful calypso about one of Kings of Leon having sex to a Regina song in the hotel room next door. For a woman with only a piano, a guitar, a string section and her own vocal clicks and chirrups at her disposal, she creates a remarkably varied and colourful world. It’s those tics, trills and toothy grins that make the DVD the more essential part of the release, though. Spektor is a sweet and spellbinding performer and it’s the onstage eccentricities that make her so riveting to watch. To see Apres Moi peppered with "ugh"s, larksong and verses in Russian, her mike-tapping percussion on Eet or her awkward acceptance of Hammersmith’s balcony-quaking applause is to feel your widescreen warp with Spektor’s talent and warmth. And with each song intercut with rehearsal footage and tour bus tales of lost luggage and tourist stop-offs, it’s drenched in the character that’s threatening to make Spektor fem-folk’s cuddliest icon....full text |
| Nytimes |
| “Regina Spektor: Live in London” — that’s what it’s called, and that’s what you get. Eighteen songs, performed in December 2009 at the Hammersmith Apollo, with an absolute minimum of onstage chatter and dollops of stylishly grainy, MTV-like filler: Ms. Spektor on the plane from New York, driving through London, applying makeup before the show. It’s perfectly tasteful, a fine showcase for her music and, more important, a fine promotional tool for the accompanying CD and DVD (which — surprise — contain four additional songs). More About This Movie Overview New York Times Review Cast, Credits & Awards Readers' Reviews The director, Adria Petty, frequently returns to a close-up of Ms. Spektor at the piano, shot from a slightly odd angle and in a harsh light. It glamorizes her — highlighting the pale face framed by waves of red hair (none of her usual curls) and the boxy sleeves of her beautiful, vintage-looking black dress — at the same time that it puts a distance, a subtle alienation, between her and the viewer. That’s not a bad correlative for Ms. Spektor’s generally lovely songs, whose lyrics often feel anti-confessional: clever and finely observed, but withholding of anything truly personal. At the end of the film she encounters stage-door fans waiting outside the building. We see her smiling and signing autographs, but we don’t see her talk to anyone — just an over-the-shoulder “bye” as she walks away. “Live in London” is dedicated to Daniel Cho, who is seen playing the cello throughout the film; he drowned in Switzerland in July while on a European tour with Ms. Spektor. REGINA SPEKTOR Live in London Opens on Friday in Manhattan. Directed by Adria Petty; photographed by Rick Woollard, Tom Harding and Mike Metcalf; edited by John Gutierrez and Ms. Petty; produced by Sarah Roebuck and East Pleasant Pictures; released by Cinema Purgatorio/Sire/Warner Brothers Records. At the Village East, Second Avenue at 12th Street, East Village. Running time: 1 hour 10 minutes. This film is not rated....full text |
Regina Spektor lyrics
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